


moonstone

by downmoon



Series: a lifetime [7]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 02:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13801002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downmoon/pseuds/downmoon
Summary: “You insist that only you can cleanse these Divine Beasts, but you come back hurt. Please, Link–” Sheik darts forward, his hands held before him, placating, like he’s offering Link the greatest of treasures. “Let me help you. Let me come with you into these beasts, let me help shoulder your burden.”





	moonstone

The moon hangs like a silver coin in the velvet darkness of the night sky. It’s not quite a full moon, but there’s enough light for them to see as they pick their way back to the Bazaar. They’ve already lost a week’s worth of time to Link’s recovery, something that couldn’t be helped, and the loss of time has Link anxious. His dreams had only grown more intense as he tossed and turned in a fever-plagued sleep.

Sheik had balked at his insistence to leave the Town; a few days after the cleansing of Vah Naboris, a few days after what Link went through in the Divine Beast was not enough. Link still moved slowly, his mind still drifting and his skin still blistering, but he’d been stubborn about it, until Sheik caved.

“Are you alright?” Sheik asks. Link shakes himself out of his wandering thoughts. Maybe Sheik had been right back in Gerudo Town, that he still wasn’t completely recovered, but it’s too late for that now.

“I’m fine. Tired.” He continues forward, pretending he can’t feel Sheik’s gaze on his back. The Bazaar is silent, a sharp contrast from its liveliness during the day. The few merchants are tucked away, sleeping, resting, trading stories. The wind and the gentle waves of the oasis are the only sounds whispering through the area. “We should be safe enough to camp out here for the night,” Link says softly, already shrugging off his pack. Sheik comes to a stop beside him, where he stares out over the shimmering water of the oasis.

“Safe, huh?” Sheik murmurs. Link frowns, but before he can question the comment, Sheik shrugs off his own pack and begins unfastening his dusty shirt.

“Uhh,” comes out of Link’s mouth before he can stop it, but Sheik pays it no mind, bare– chested and kicking the _sirwal_ off as soon as the top slips free from his shoulders.

“I have sand in my hair,” Sheik says, “among other places. I’d like to rinse off before we sleep.”

Link nods, fully aware that Sheik can’t see him, as he’s turned his blushing face away from him as soon as the _sirwal_ was unfastened. He brushes his hands down his own clothing, the handsome set the Gerudo had gifted him. Something made for _voe_ specifically, as rare as they were. Sheik had peered at him coyly over the top of his veil as Link awkwardly accepted the gift, and later gently teased him about it, saying he had traded one revealing outfit in for another. The spaulder does nothing in covering the scars that are still healing, marks left from the blight infecting the Divine Beast. The Gerudo were quite fascinated by them, saying Link should wear them as a mark of courage, a remembrance of the battle he waged, but they still burn and sting.

The sound of Sheik slipping into the water distracts him, and he turns around. One of his own hands rests over a buckle on the spaulder, his skin fever-warm where the scars split into pink lines. The water probably isn’t very cold, but still, he’s caked in dried sweat and sand. Just the thought of rinsing off is more than appealing. In a burst of confidence, Link unbuckles the strap and shakes off the spaulder, then slips out of the matching trousers. The earrings the Gerudo had insisted go with the outfit sit heavy in his ears, too complicated to take off in the dark of night.

The water is cool on his skin, sending a shiver up his spine. Sheik’s already wading in the deeper waters of the oasis, moonlight lighting his skin in shades of silver. The desert has turned his skin golden in a matter of days, his hair yellow like cornsilk. But here in the deep light of the night, he looks like a water spirit, a nymph, an otherworldly creature slipping into a pool of magic.

Undressed, Link ducks into the water quickly, then dunks his head underwater. It _does_ , admittedly, feel nice to rinse off the grime of the past week. Water isn’t exactly an abundant commodity in Gerudo Town, and there were more pressing thoughts preoccupying his mind during their stay there. He dives out towards the middle of the oasis, swimming a lazy path through the dark water. Sheik’s somewhere along the edge, carefully ducking under the water and scrubbing his hands through his hair. Link swims a wide circle and turns towards him, drawing close enough so they can speak in hushed tones. No need to wake up the few residents of the Bazaar in the dead of night.

“How are your wounds?” Sheiks inquires, when Link is close enough.

“Feel alright. The water’s nice on ‘em. They don’t feel so tight.”

Sheik nods, continuing to rake his hands through the mess of hair tangled down past his shoulders. Link frowns slightly as his feet touch down on the bottom of the oasis.  
  
Sheik had been far more quiet, almost contemplative, as they left Gerudo Town than expected. Link thought he’d be chattering nonstop, making up for all the talking he’d missed out while they were in the town, but he’d been near silent, just trudging along behind Link as he led them back to the Bazaar. And now, he’s slipped into the same silence.

“Are you–” Link starts, clears his throat gently, “-alright? Not hurt or anything?”

Sheik laughs very lightly, pulling through a particularly stubborn snarl. “I’m fine,” he murmurs in reply, “just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Very funny.”

Link settles himself on a slab of rock beneath the water, scrubbing at his skin while he has the chance to do so. Sheik looks off into the darkness, fingers still working through his hair. Link tries not to stare at him, but the quiet– it’s so _unusual–_ is distracting, perhaps for the first time. There’s a weight between them, and Link doesn’t like the feel of it.

“I want to help you,” Sheik says. His deft fingers have begun to idly braid his wet hair. Link watches from the corner of his eye. “When you came back from the Divine Beast, I thought– I feared the worst. The scars...were worse than I could have imagined.” Sheik turns, the water sloshing around his waist. Link watches him carefully. “I thought you dropped dead,” Sheik admits, “and I thought...that there was no price in Hyrule that would be worth your life. But you– _insist_ on doing it yourself, you won’t let me _help–”_

“You’re helping. You’re here with me, you– Sheik– I _would_ be dead without you–”

“That’s not what I mean.” He speaks sharply, like a knife cutting through flesh. Link bites his tongue immediately. “You insist that only you can cleanse these Divine Beasts, but you come back hurt. Please, Link–” Sheik darts forward, his hands held before him, placating, like he’s offering Link the greatest of treasures. “Let me help you. Let me come with you into these beasts, let me help shoulder your burden.”

“Sheik–”

“Please,” he whispers.

His skin is silver, his eyes like red moonstones in the wavering light. And this, perhaps it is a treasure he offers Link. Perhaps he’s handing over his heart in the dark of the night.

“I...can’t promise anything,” Link relents. “It’s dangerous, and it’s...confusing. There are pieces of me in these beasts. Sheik, I can’t, I _can’t._ If you were to get hurt, I couldn’t bear it. I’m sorry.” He watches Sheik’s fingers curl into his palms, heart battered, perhaps, but it will be safer in his hands than in Link’s.

“I think it unfair to ask me to ‘bear it,’” Sheik snaps, flicking his head sharply enough that his wet braid slaps against his back, unraveling from its lazy coils. He turns towards the shore and begins stalking out of the water. Link sighs, and after a moment, follows him back to their abandoned piles of clothing.

Sheik pulls his _sirwal_ back on with a ferocious energy, abandoning the top in favor of yanking his cloak out of his pack and throwing it around his shoulders. Link comes out of the water behind him, shivering in the cool breath of desert air. He’s tense, half-waiting for Sheik to whirl on him while he’s naked and vulnerable, but Sheik busies himself with shuffling things in his pack. Link pulls on his clothes quickly, frowning at the feeling of damp fabric on his body, but there isn’t much to be done about it.

He turns to look for his own pack, intent on pulling out his own cloak and wrapping it around himself, but Sheik is there, holding it out.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes downcast. Link carefully takes the cloak from his fingers. “I feared the worst when you left, and the fear would not leave me. I am still afraid, I suppose, for you, and for Hyrule.” Sheik tucks his arm back into his cloak, closing in on himself like a scolded child.

“I’m afraid, too,” Link admits. Sheik’s gaze cuts into him when he looks up. “Of these beasts, of the scattered memories they hold. The dreams. And I’m sorry. You’re right, it’s not fair of me to leave you behind with...thoughts and worries. But, I don’t think there’s much to be done. Just, be brave and push through it.”

“You mean, be foolish and rush into it.”

Link can’t help the grin that splits his face at Sheik’s sarcasm. “Or that,” he replies. “Not a perfect solution, but it’s the best working one I have right now.” On impulse, he stretches his hand out towards Sheik. “Besides, I have you to cover my back.”

Sheik’s own hand slips from the folds of his cloak and delicately meets Link’s. His fingers are cool, rough and blistered from handling the weapons he’s been picking up, but his touch is strong, certain, as he squeezes Link’s hand.

“I have your back,” he says, “no matter what.”


End file.
